


arcadian

by transcendencism



Series: prompts from tumblr [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Theron is a Good Dad, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27188162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transcendencism/pseuds/transcendencism
Summary: arcadian (adj): idyllically innocent, simple and untroubled by fear or worry.
Relationships: Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Theron Shan, Male Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Theron Shan
Series: prompts from tumblr [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813855
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	arcadian

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from tumblr

Retirement brought on a new morning routine that, while it was not that different from the one prior, had been a steep learning curve at first. Neither Theron or Hyroh could actually _commit_ to being wholly retired; Theron still read the Alliance Intelligence reports, and Hyroh still taught lightsaber combat in the Force Enclave from time to time, but officially they were civilian residents of Odessen. As they were no longer expected at meetings or briefings, they could afford extra hours of the morning to lay together; that didn’t stop Hyroh from continuing to get up at the crack of dawn, even if he hadn’t rested well, for morning meditation. Fatherhood threw a wrench into the preexisting day-to-day schedule however, and neither of them no longer found it so difficult to sleep in.

Breakfast together in the kitchen replaced Hyroh’s old meditation routine. He still ran through his katas, but not after staying with Theron in the kitchen to make sure he didn’t burn the shit out of the bacon _again_. Thankfully the first and only time that happened was before they brought home Auzeva, and they didn’t have to suffer the consequences of the fire alarm waking her up. Once they could no longer get away with smuggling rations from the cafeteria on the base, Theron’s cooking skills improved tremendously (of course, the tutoring from Koth certainly didn’t hurt). And at some point, holding hands while they ate became a part of that routine.

This morning, Theron holds his datapad in one hand while the fingers of his other hand are intertwined with Hyroh’s. Bird song drifting in from the half open window accompanies Theron’s voice as he reads the latest report aloud, though Hyroh is only partially listening. His attention remains on the weathered lines in Theron’s hand, and he traces the contours with his thumb. It elicits a chuckle that interrupts Theron’s voice, and he squeezes Hyroh’s hand. “What?”

“I think you’re getting old,” Hyroh replies and sets down his fork to take Theron’s hand in both of his. The datapad is softly set on the table as Theron gives up both of his hands for inspection. “I don’t remember all these wrinkles.”

Theron laughs. “ _Wrinkles_?” he echoes incredulously, “I’m only forty-three, sweetheart.”

“You know what they say about stress.”

Theron laughs again, and he withdraws one hand from Hyroh’s to cup the side of his face. “Then it’s a miracle you haven’t gone completely gray.”

This time, Hyroh chuckles and playfully pushes his hand away. They return to a comfortable silence, their hands joined halfway between them once more. Propping his head up on his other hand, Hyroh relaxes as Theron continues reading through the report. Listening to Theron read the reports is less about keeping up with the goings-on in the Alliance, but simply enjoying the soothing sound of his husband’s voice. Hyroh’s not the only one who likes it either; most nights, Theron’s on bedtime story duty for Auzeva. Despite Hyroh’s years of giving moving speeches (speeches he never wrote himself), he didn’t have the same range for storytelling that Theron did.

“Good morning!”

Hyroh smiles. Speak of the devil.

“Good morning, pumpkin,” Theron says to Auzeva, and Hyroh listens as she passes into the kitchen. Silverware clinks together as she gets a fork and a plate.

“How did you sleep?” Hyroh asks. He hears a muffled reply from the kitchen, and he’s sure she’s already shoveling down scrambled eggs before she even reaches the table. She learned it from watching Hyroh, unfortunately.

Her chair quietly scrapes against the floor as she pulls it back, and Theron mumbles a warning to be careful as she hobbles up into her chair. She’s tall enough to sit unassisted now, but that doesn’t stop either of them from worrying. Auzeva has grown up so fast since they adopted her, and Hyroh can hardly believe she’s five years old now. “… and then the Gravestone went _boom_!” Auzeva knocks Hyroh’s shoulder as she demonstrates the size of the explosion with her hands, “and turned into confetti!”

Theron smothers a chuckle behind his other hand, attempting to keep a serious composure. He’s been doing that ever since they first brought Auzeva home: Theron always spoke to her like an equal, even when all she could do was babble. On the other hand, Hyroh had never been ashamed to stoop to baby-talk. “Sounds like a crazy dream.”

“Uncle Koth got out though,” Auzeva continues assuredly, “and he had an _extra_ Gravestone!”

“Who would’ve thought,” Hyroh muses, “that one of a kind warship we found in a swamp… there’d be a replacement lying around.”

“If there’s anyone who could make that kind of discovery twice,” Theron replies, “it’s Koth.”

After the laughter dies down, quiet returns to the table. Contented by the peaceful morning, Hyroh sighs gently and turns his attention to the Force. Though neither his husband or his daughter can feel it, the Force is bright and singing with joy. It wasn’t until Hyroh had settled down with Theron that he finally felt peace like this, and maybe it’s a naïve sentiment, but the war feels millions of lightyears away. Hyroh knows that nothing is untouchable when it comes to war, and there’ll come a time where he’ll have to face it again. But for now, he can enjoy a quiet morning with his family.

Another hand on his interrupts his musings. Auzeva’s comparably tiny hand sits on top of he and Theron’s joined hands, and Hyroh laughs fondly.

“What?” Auzeva asks innocently, “I wanna hold hands!”

“Okay, okay,” Theron chuckles. He pats Auzeva’s hand with his free one. “You can hold hands with us.”

It’s a perfect morning.


End file.
